


Howlers and Nail Polish

by AlightWithHappiness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-18 04:50:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10609614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlightWithHappiness/pseuds/AlightWithHappiness
Summary: Evans stared down at Sirius, lips pursed, one hand on her hip, the other waving her wand to direct the five platters of waffles rotating around her head. "Right," she snapped, pointing a foot at the red (and slightly smoking) letter in his hand, "Black, if you think anyone in this House gives a crap what your purebitch mum has to say about you, then you're dumber than Potter."This is a story of friendship and family and love and Jily and bad jokes and awkward flirting and growing up in the midst of a war that threatens all of that.  Disclaimer: this world and these wonderful people are JK's.





	1. Moving Day

Over the last two weeks of term first year, Sirius got progressively angrier and sadder and meaner every day. He'd never known he could love a place like he did Hogwarts, or a person like he did James and Remus and Peter. He'd never known he could be a Gryffindor, and kidnap people's cats when they annoyed him, and sing terrible Muggle music at the top of his lungs, and sneak into Hogsmeade under James' invisibility cloak, and make his brilliant, intimidating headmaster laugh with his imitation of Professor McGonagall, and actually like house elves - they weren't all like Kreacher! There was one he especially loved named Josie who would let him and his mates into the broom shed and play referee for their midnight two-on-twos.

But now he would be spending the next two months where he couldn't do or be any of those things, and, well, it was hard to bear.

He had no idea that James had written home to ask if his new best mate Sirius Black could come visit over break, because James didn't get the answer by owl until the last day of term. James looked at Sirius and tried to tell him, because he knew this paper in his hands was more than some dumb playdate invitation. But James was dumb and eleven and had never had to say anything meaningful before, so he didn't quite know how to go about it. So he just shoved his mum's letter into Sirius' hands and said gruffly, "Read it or something." So Sirius looked down and saw: 'James, we live in a mansion. Tell Mr. Black he can spend as much time here as he wants.'

The asking and the answering and the handing off of the letters became a tradition, and the letters themselves became progressively less formal every year as Mr. and Mrs. Potter got to know Sirius better and his summer visits grew longer and more frequent.

Second Year: 'Tell Sirius we'd love to have him, and if he gives enough advance warning, I'll even run to the supermarket and get those terrible Muggle biscuits he likes so much for his welcome dinner.' (James hated those biscuits, and he sincerely considered "forgetting" to mention it to Euphemia when Sirius popped into his mirror to say he was coming)

Third Year: 'Well, James, for your sake, Sirius had better stop by soon because if you think you're allowed to touch your broomstick before you two clean up the mess you made of the Godric's Hollow cottage at Christmas hols before running away to school like a couple of cowards, you are sorely mistaken.'

Fourth Year: 'Your father says if Padfoot doesn't get his arse over here within the first month, he can forget about golf lessons (I don't know what 'golf' is, Fleamont claims it's some Muggle thing he offered to teach you two, but if it's going to mess up my house all of you stupid boys will have hell to pay).'

Fifth year, James didn't even need to ask, because by this time every letter that his parents sent him had at least a paragraph directed at Sirius, and with two months left of school, Euphemia sent a note unprompted: 'We're renovating at home. Is Padfoot planning to sleep in your bedroom, or do we need to be careful to leave an extra guest bedroom intact? PS - tell him he has terrible taste in rooms, and I don't care that the Ophelia Suite is his favorite, it's hideous and the bed is lumpy, and his options are the Sunset Suite or your room.'

Sirius showed up in their fireplace holding two trunks instead of the usual one after only a week that summer and no one needed to ask. He simply went to sleep in James' bed, and Euphemia kissed both boys on the head, even though - "Gross, Mum! We're way too old for that!"

When Sirius and James woke up the next morning, it was to the smell of blueberry pancakes, Sirius' favorite breakfast. And as Sirius practically skipped downstairs James had a silent but very aggressive war with himself about whether or not he should whine about this blatant favoritism because

On the one hand, he hated blueberry pancakes,

But on the other hand, Sirius needed his favorite food more than he did right then,

But on the first hand, nobody made French Toast the day James came home,

But on the other hand, he wanted to make sure Sirius didn't feel like James begrudged him anything because he didn't, obviously,

But then he realized that under normal circumstances he would complain (he decided not to spend any time contemplating what a prat that made him), and more than anything else what Sirius needed right then was to know that this wasn't weird for James, this was perfectly normal because they were brothers.

So, James dramatically threw his hands in the air and wailed, "BLUEBERRY, Mum? You KNOW I hate how they explode in your mouth!" For a long moment, no one said anything and he was terrified that he'd done the wrong thing, but then Sirius looked up with a shit-eating grin that split his whole face open and he had about ten un-popped blueberries in between his teeth. And with no warning, he chomped down hard, and the blueberry juice shot wildly in all directions, spraying the plate and the table and hitting James right smack in the face.

And Mrs. Potter tried her absolute best to look disapproving but James just looked so shocked and he was dripping purple and it was bloody hilarious. Mr. Potter laughed and laughed and laughed until he finally pulled himself together enough to clap a hand on Sirius' shoulder and yell, "Way to go, son!"

Sirius looked up at him, confused and skeptical, because he didn't get how Mr. Potter could be proud of James for getting sprayed with blueberry juice, was this some Potter family rite of passage he doesn't know about? But then Sirius saw Mr. Potter looking down at him, grinning and proud and laughing his head off, and realized that he was Mr. Potter's son now too.


	2. Mother Dearest

8:07 AM - Sirius sprayed blueberry juice into James' face, painting it purple and spurring both boys (once they stopped laughing and groaning, respectively) to simultaneously recall a particularly excellent prank they played on Cadbury Mulciber at dinner last year. They proceeded to tell the story loudly and flamboyantly, constantly interrupting each other and breaking off to have side conversations about new prank ideas.

8:23 - Mr. and Mrs. Potter both happened to look away at the same moment and James took the opportunity to hex Sirius' face green in retaliation.

8:24 - Mrs. Potter confiscated James's wand (for the prank, not the underage magic, the Potters always let them practice as long as there was an adult around).

8:27 - Mr. Potter gave the wand back with a surreptitious high five.

8: 29 - James discovered the wand his dad gave him was a fake one when he tried to magically remove the blueberries from his pancakes and instead found himself holding a rubber duck, beginning an intense four-way debate on the function of a rubber duck.

8:36 – An owl soared in through the open kitchen window and clattered onto the table in front of Sirius' plate, and they all fell quiet. The envelope tied to its leg was bright red, and it bore a legend in his mother's scrawl:

Mr. S. Black

His Blood Traitor Friend's Room

79 Astoria Way

Harpenden, Hertfordshire

Twenty-nine minutes of blissful happiness before his mum had to cock it up?

Yeah, sounded about right.

He reached for the letter – he'd gotten enough of these over the years to know they're quieter if you get it over with quickly – opened it deftly, and listened in stony silence as Mrs. Black wailed and howled and bellowed her fury at her eldest son's betrayal, her assurance that the political wind was blowing her way thanks to the Dark Lord and soon he'd rue the day he left, her declaration that if he ever set foot in their house again, he could expect to be treated like the filthy Mudblood scum he hangs out with, her pain over how he had besmirched the sacred Black family name, her fervent wish that he could just be more like Regulus. She finished with quite a flourish:

"ONE DAY, YOU DISGUSTING MONGREL, YOU WILL BEG ME ON BENDED KNEE FOR PERMISSION TO REENTER THIS FAMILY AND I WILL HAVE THE HONOR AND THE PRIVILEGE OF TELLING YOU TO GO TO HELL AND TAKE YOUR FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR FRIENDS WITH YOU."

Mr. and Mrs. Potter stared at the Howler. Sirius knew those looks: They were horrified, offended, disgusted, but they didn't know what to say. He could sense them taking furtive peeks at him, unsure if he would cry or rage – he wasn't sure what he should do, so he couldn't exactly blame them –

"Well, Merlin's curly nose hair, Mum, why can't you be a cool mom like her?" James's hands were curled into fists, his shoulders were hunched, and his brow was furrowed into an angry line, but when he spoke, it was light and teasing, and his voice cut through the tension at the table like a knife.

In seconds, all four were laughing and joking and by 8:51, Sirius came up with a new idea for what to do with a rubber duck and a certain part of his mother's anatomy. It made James guffaw and Mrs. Potter say, "Padfoot!" in what she clearly hoped was a scandalized and disapproving tone, but the effect was kind of ruined by the errant giggle that escaped her husband.

So all in all, the first Howler wasn't so bad. The second one is a different story.

He recognized his dad's owl, Abatius, as he skidded down the table at lunchtime, knocking over Mr. Potter's pumpkin juice (probably on purpose, Abatius is a prat), but that didn't mean he was prepared for the red envelope on his leg. Sirius was used to Howlers – he couldn't remember a year at Hogwarts when he hadn't gotten at least one – but two in one day? That was…below the belt. He didn't care what his mom thinks of him, he didn't, he hated her, but…still.

He grabbed it, because there was nothing else to do, was there, but let it talk and listen? And he pulled it open, hating her and Abatius and this stupid Howler but mostly hating the part of himself that was hoping his mum had had a change of heart and this one was gonna be her bellowing "NEVER MIND, SIRIUS, WE LOVE YOU AND WE WERE WRONG! STAY WITH THE POTTERS ALL YOU WANT, BUT WE'LL STILL LET YOU COME BACK AND WE'LL COME TO YOUR GRADUATION, AND OF COURSE WE DON'T CARE WHETHER YOUR FRIENDS ARE PUREBLOODS OR NOT, THAT'S DUMB."

Shockingly enough, that wasn't what she said.

'YOU DISGUST ME! YOU DISGUST YOUR FATHER! YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO YOUR FAMILY AND YOU WILL BE A DISAPPOINTMENT TO EVERYONE WHO EVER HAS THE MISFORTUNE TO KNOW YOU -"

"REDUCTO!"

Sirius was drowning so deeply in his mother's words that he hadn't realized James was on his feet until James pointed his shaking wand at the letter. "REDUCTO!" He screamed again, louder even than Mrs. Black, "STUPEFY! EXPULSO!"

Cursing a Howler turned out to be a very bad move.

Suddenly there was not one mother screaming that Sirius has brought dishonor on her family but fifty, and they had lifted off the table, flying in a circle around his head, larger and louder than before, and James cowered, and he whispered something, maybe 'I'm so sorry,' judging by his lips, but Sirius couldn't hear a word of it. When she finally stopped, and it took much longer this time, nobody made a joke.

The third owl landed in the middle of the salad at dinner and immediately took a shit.

Horrified, Sirius tried to grab the letter, but before he could reach, Euphemia Potter stood up and grabbed the whole bird by a wing.

"Right," she snapped, "This is getting out of hand." She picked the bird up, Howler still attached, and carried it through the house to the front door. James, Sirius, and Fleamont ran after her just in time to see her pop open the seal on the letter without taking it off the owl's foot, swing the poor animal around her head once, twice, three times, then release, watching the poor squawking owl (now-yelling Howler still in tow) go soaring over the hedge like a garden gnome, too dizzy to even flap its wings.

The boys turned to each other in awe, and Fleamont grinned, wrapping an arm around each of them and whispering: "Minnie McGonagall was four years younger than us in school. Worshipped Euphemia like a goddess."

When Euphemia walked back in the door, James snapped to attention and gave her a soldier's salute and Sirius pretended to play a horn to serenade her in. They pivoted to process back into the kitchen in front of her, conjuring an actual horn (Sirius) and a pair of cymbals (James) on the way, on which they attempted to play a soldier's march, although they kept breaking off to cackle.

They didn't give it up until they'd marched her through the whole downstairs twice, and when they finally stopped, she couldn't seem to get the corners of her mouth to turn down again. Instead she put her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow at James and demanded, "So. Still think I'm not a cool enough mum?"


	3. The Letter

It only took two more Howlers sailing over the fence on the strength of Euphemia Potter's arm before the family had devised a new plan: protective wards around the house to Confund any owl that tried to fly through them, leaving the bird unsure of his letters' destination and only able to soar off home, message never delivered. The wards would be lifted only once a day, on the northwest chimney from 5 to 5:10 every evening, to allow letters in from correspondents who knew when and where to deliver, and so every member of the family set off to notify their various pen pals.

Two hours later, after writing to Remus and Peter about the change (and inviting them to pop over the next day with their brooms, because, in James' sentimental words, "What's life without Quidditch, and you're all shite, but at least when it's three on one I can get some satisfaction out of whipping your arses"), James had made a highly questionable, if not very surprising, choice.

The result of said choice was now scrawled on a piece of parchment, being stared at very intently by two idiotic adolescent boys. With great effort, one of the two cut his eyes away from the letter, toward the waiting envelope addressed to a certain Lily Evans, and then up to the other boy.

"I should send this, right?"

"You should absolutely send that!"

"It's charming and debonair?"

"And don't forget witty, it's extremely witty!"

"She'll like it, won't she?"

"She'll love it!"

Both boys paused.

"You might wanna check with Remus."

"Yeah, I should definitely check with Remus."

* * *

By 9:00 the next night, all four boys were properly knackered from flying and had assembled, alongside a liberal amount of Firewhiskey nicked from the cellar, in James and Sirius' room, staring expectantly at the former and, more specifically, at the as-yet-unsent letter clutched in his hand.

But James had barely finished reading out the salutation _–" 'O Evans, purveyor of all that is excellent in my life (except a really corking corned beef sandwich I made myself this morning, but it's gone now so we're back to square one)' "_ – when things started to go wrong.

"Huh." He looked at the letter. He looked up at Moony. He shot a nervous glance at Sirius. "You know, I'm not so sure I should read this bit aloud after all…"

"The _'bulbous bulging bollocks'_ bit?" Sirius recalled fondly, "But that's the best part!"

"Oh, Merlin." Remus looked for something hard to bang his head against and, failing that, kicked Sirius hard in the shin. "Rule of thumb: anytime you write a letter to Lily, make a draft, ask Padfoot for his favorite line, and then cut that whole paragraph."

_'_ Right. I'll do that for anyone I respect, actually-"

"Oy!"

"Consider it a compliment. You're useful. So, the next paragraph. Ok. ' _I write only for your convenience' –_ that's so she knows I live to serve –

"Hah! You live to wank."

Sirius and Remus both laughed and Peter nearly fainted from pride.

"I LIVE TO SERVE! Continuing. ' _You see, in the event that you should find yourself desperate to write me a sonnet or similar ballad to indicate your affection' –_ I'm making clear that I pay attention to her, 'cause I've noticed her favorite way to reject me is in poems –"

"Well, golly, good thing you put that in, or Evans might think you don't even know she exists! Merlin and Agrippa, everything in this letter sounds so much worse now that I know your barmy motivations-"

_"_ Can it, Dogbreath. _– 'I shouldn't like it to get lost in the heap of all my other fan mail. Thus for reasons pertaining mostly to the aforementioned fan mail, the Potter family has decided to accept correspondence only through the northwest chimney during the time from 17:00 to 17:10 every day this summer-"_

"Look," Sirius cut in, sounding pained, "I've suffered in silence so far," (the other three snorted in disbelief) "but is no one going to comment on 'aforementioned'? 'Accept correspondence'? _'Seventeen_ o'clock' _?_ When precisely, Prongs, did you become Ernest fucking Hemingway?"

" _Hemingway?"_ Remus cried, devastated by his friend's imperfect knowledge of dead American Muggle novelists, _"_ Padfoot, _Hemingway_ writes like a drunk Peter. If he strings seven words and a comma together in a sentence, he pats himself on the back –"

"Hey!"

"Don't bother, Pete, might as well come to terms with the fact you'll never have my _je ne sais quoi_ with a quill." James said sagely, failing to smother a grin as he cupped Peter's chin in his hands and stroked it like a simpering mother.

"Why should I say 'quah'?" Peter tried to ask, but Remus mercifully distracted everyone from this shocking bit of stupidity by recommencing his telling off of Sirius.

"– Which you'd know, if you ever bothered to _read."_

Sirius grinned, tossed his gleaming hair out of his eyes, and spread his arms wide like some sort of insufferable prince, demanding, "Why should I? I'm top of the class without – EEEEEEEE!" He broke off to squeal very effeminately as he was hit simultaneously with a fist to the head and a hex to the arse that caused it to sprout lush golden fur. Sirius' new status (he had usurped Evans as of last term's exams) was a source of great indignation for both Remus, who worked much harder than Sirius, and James, who didn't but who was exactly as effortlessly clever and knew it.

Having ensured that his best mate was sufficiently furry and congratulated Remus on a well-delivered punch, James continued to read, in what he seemed to believe was a dignified voice, '- _17:00 to 17:10 every day this summer, and all owls that arrive at any other times will be turned away, their proclamations of undying love regrettably unread._

_I am informing you, along with a select few others, in order to ensure that the letters you will surely wish to send do not become lost in the cacophony.'_ – See what I did there? Toss in a bit of jealousy, but not too much, you know, that's why I say _'select few'_ -"

"Would you finish the damn letter, you _absolute tosser_?" roared his furious best mate, who had by this time tried seven countercurses and had only succeeded in turning the hair on his bum a royal purple.

"Testy, are we, Blueberry Bottom?" James inquired genially, but he read out the end of the letter all the same:

" _Until 17:00, my beloved estranged darling,_

_James xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_PS. Sirius suggested adding some o's, so as to seem less creepy, but I feared you might misconstrue that as brotherly affection, and there is nothing brotherly about the things I'd like to do to you. All my non-fraternal love, James xx.'"_

For a long moment, no one spoke. Finally, James, always incapable of handling suspense, burst out, "Well, Moony?"

The werewolf looked at the other three boys, all of whom were awaiting his judgment (Peter eagerly, James anxiously, Sirius only because he knew James wouldn't tell him how to remove the fur until the letter was set right) and finally sighed in a sort of exasperated admiration. "Writing to tell her how to send you love letters when she has never in her life wanted to send you so much as a dung beetle…no one can say you don't have balls, James."

* * *

Three days after the letter, half-rewritten by a very harried Remus Lupin, winged its way to Lily Evans, an envelope fell through the chimney at 5:07 PM addressed to James Potter by the girl in question.

_Oh, how I've missed you, Potter!_

_..._

_Now that you've presumably recovered from having fainted dead away at that shock, let me clarify that Mary, Anna, Katie and Marlene are all out of the country and my parents are gallivanting through Morocco rediscovering their youth (and, if my sources are correct, each other's genitalia – BLEARGHHHH). This has restricted my company over the past week to Snivellus, Petunia, and Petunia's boyfriend, a man who once devoted three actual hours to explaining to me why red-haired women are genetically predisposed toward slaggishness._

_Or is it slaggery?_

_Vernon Dursley preferred to use the term 'promiscuity', which I will never forget because every time he said it a bit of spittle flew out of his mouth onto the tablecloth and/or my blouse until he had crafted a sort of multi-media salival Jackson Pollock._

_In short, I need to find something really spiteful to do to him, ideally without using magic and getting myself kicked out of Hogwarts, and you, Captain Detention, are precisely the person to provide the plan. Since you clearly had the time to whip out a thesaurus for every other word in your last letter, I take it you have nothing to do and I expect a detailed and sophisticated plot by return owl._

_LE oo (but only because if I don't transfer Dursley's saliva from my shirt to someone else's soon I may catch whatever disease made him such a filthy git)_

_PS. Will this do for a ballad?_

_Roses are red,_

_Violets are blue,_

_I used to want a brother,_

_And then I met you._

* * *

**A/N Please review! Let me know your favorite line, that always helps me out :)** **I'm aware this was mostly fluff and nonsense, but there's only one more chapter left before we enter 6th year and shit hits the proverbial fan.**

**CD xx (consider them sororal)**


	4. Heresathing

 

_One month later._

"Y'know," James announced, pointing an unsteady finger up at Sirius and nodding sagely in agreement with the pronouncement he had not yet made, "Irony."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "…is a concept?"

"Shhhh-zhhhh-shush. List'n. I have discovered…irony. So list'n. You're my brother. But, technically…you're not my brother, because you're a Black. And I'm not. But also, if you _were_ my brother, you would be black, like me. You're Black," he singsonged, "and I'm not Black. But I'm black, and you're not black. That's fuckin' funny!" James gave a great shout of laughter, and Sirius couldn't help but snort, though more at the ridiculous presentation than at the revelation itself.

Clearly, Prongs was at least a four. That would've been weird, because Sirius was barely a three, and James pretty much never out-drank him, but tonight it was Phase One of the plan.

Time for Phase Two.

"So, mate," Sirius began, draped across James' bed while its owner lay sprawled on the floor below him, "We never did get around to putting edibles in Minnie's biscuit tin. You know," he added innocently, "what with pulling the concert instead."

"The concert…" James didn't seem ready to bite, so Sirius piled it on thicker.

"Yeah, come to think of it…why did we pull the concert? I mean, not that I didn't enjoy grinding on you on top of the Slytherin table at the end-of-year feast while wearing black leather pants and singing Muggle rock, but it really wasn't as funny as McGonagall stoned would've been…why'd we go for that as our end-of-OWL-year prank?"

"Had to. F'r Evans." Hook, line, and sinker, bitches.

"WHAT?!" Padfoot dramatically rolled over to stare down at James, grabbing at his own chest in feigned astonishment. "EVANS? I crooned four verses of "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" while dressed as Paul McCartney so you could impress a _girl?_ "

He was probably having a bit too much fun with this, he reflected. But he didn't feel guilty; his main plan was disgustingly considerate, so it was only fair that he at least enjoy it.

"Not impress her! Just wanted t'make her laugh."

"Er – okay..."

"She hadn't since the – with Snivellus – you know. And- and- and she makes flower crowns for the first years!"

"Sorry, what?"

"She's got – Hagrid's garden – daisies – and she puts 'em in the crowns, you know, and she knows all the first years' names, and she gives 'em to 'em. Not even jus' the Gryffindor midgets, all of 'em! When she's happy."

 _Merlin's bloody handlebar moustache._ "How does that relate-?"

"She should be happy. Should laugh. Fuckin' Snivellus."

_Ah._

"Well," Sirius conceded, trying to smile, "I reckon you did a bang-up job. Laughed so hard she snorted a pea out her nose, I saw it."

"Yeah," James grinned dazedly, "yeah, and then she caught it in her mouth. Fuckin' brilliant, Evans."

"Was thinkin' nasty as fuck, m'self, but, sure, mate."

"Don' call her that!"

"Right." As if Sirius wasn't already biting his tongue to avoid calling her a whole lot worse.

The thing was, Sirius Black really, really did not like Lily Evans. He didn't care what James or Remus or her friends (who, aside from Snivellus, he liked) or every teacher in the bleeding school saw in her. She had committed, over and over again throughout the last five years, two mortal sins: stopping him from having a laugh and hurting James Potter.

Still, even he, who thought anyone willing to pal around with Snivellus Snape was digging their own grave and ought to lie in it, empathized with Evans's anger over that friendship's awful, public end. Which was why he was frankly baffled when she answered James' letter in a tone bordering on friendly.

Sirius was content to let his bafflement settle into righteous indignation at her nonsensical behavior. Unfortunately, James had been equally confused, and his confusion had seemed to morph into something alarmingly close to depression. Sirius caught him multiple times staring off into space, jaw taut, totally unaware of anything going on around him, and from the vague hints he dropped he was psychoanalyzing every interaction he'd ever had with Evans. Sirius didn't know quite where these analyses ended up, but they all seemed to point pretty directly towards self-hatred.

"She ever write back to your third letter?" Sirius asked, totally casual. He had a gift for pretending not to give a shit.

James shook his head. "Just the two."

"Kinda rude."

"Rude? More than I expected already. Prob'ly…prob'ly more 'n I deserved."

Anyone else would've run with that, but it wasn't the cue Sirius wanted. Wordlessly, he rolled another bottle across the floor to his brother, not totally confident Prongs could catch it in the air at this stage. But of course, James The Chaser™ took offense, chucking it back at Sirius so suddenly that he ducked involuntarily and then laughing loudly at him for trying to protect his precious hair.

Fine, then. Prongs could take his sweet time, for all Sirius cared. Somewhere in the back of Sirius' brain, the alcohol had been fermenting a half-baked idea for a prank, and he started to talk it through aloud.

It was designed for that one prick from Eeylops' who once called Remus a swot (which James and Sirius did on a daily basis, but, like, they didn't _really_ mean it). It involved a niffler and a rubber-band daisy chain and a Muggle invention called a bicycle, and see, what we're gonna do is put the niffler –

"Heresathing." Finally. Instantly, Sirius shut up.

 _Heresathing_ started the first time they got plastered, when they were thirteen. Somehow, the two boys had wound up half-naked inside a secret passageway they hadn't known existed whisper-yelling a song they were making up as they went along. It was to the tune of "Hork the Happy Hippogriff" and detailed the many adventures of Gregory the Smarmy, whose mouth they were sitting inside. The fact that neither boy knew anything about Gregory or even what smarmy meant didn't seem very relevant.

And then Sirius stopped singing in the middle of the chorus ("Aaaaaand theeeeey _chop_ ped off his arm, with a smarm, smarm, smarm, but he stuck it back on, with a charm, charm, charm, but when he looked at it, he became alarmed, for he'd put it on upside doooooowwwwwwwwn") and said, "Here's a thing: you're the bes' thing 'at ever happen'a me."

And James said "Here's a thing: me too." And it almost meant more, from him, because a lot more good things had happened to James.

Now heresathing means cashing in on best mate privileges. Or something. Best not to overanalyze.

"Heresathing," James said, lying on the floor of his room three years later, and of all the things Sirius expected to hear about her, about that day, about the letters, what came out was: "I wish she didn't call him Snivellus. That's the kind of shit we do, you know? I wish…She's better than that."

Sirius didn't even blink. "Better? Bullshit. I reckon she wrote you mostly to get revenge on him, mate."

James nodded, and Sirius didn't miss the tightened jaw or the angry eyebrow crease that accompanied it. But he wouldn't be Sirius Black if he told people the shit they wanted to hear. Instead he waited as James chugged half the bottle and then gasped a little.

And finally, James breathed out the words this whole night had been about. "Sometimes I wish I never met Evans 'cause then she'd be happier. That make me pathetic?"

"Nah," Sirius whispered. "Just wrong."

"Heh?" Whatever James had been expecting, it wasn't that.

"You make her laugh, mate." This was his moment, and he was going to take it. He had slid half-off the bed, and his face was only a foot from James'. "When you're not bein' a berk-"

"So a solid 10% of the time, then-"

Sirius grinned. "Hey, don't sell yourself short. Twenty, easy, when Wormtail's not around t'egg you on," James laughed. "When you're not being a berk, you make her happy. But that's not – that doesn't mean – you put Evans on a pedestal, mate, and I never understood it. You're plenty good enough for her. I dunno if she's good enough for you."

"The fuck, man? You…you were on board with this. You were all for me sendin' that letter, cheered me on like fuckin' Wormtail."

"One: Don't ever compare me to Peter again, Potter, have you seen that filthy yellow mop he calls hair? And two: Yeah, I did. 'Cause your Evans thing was good for a laugh. But you're not laughing anymore, mate."

James stared at the ground, tapping a nervous finger against his thigh, mouth pinched in a thin line. After a moment, Sirius turned away and scanned the room, eyes finally settling on a Quidditch poster on their wall. "So. D'you reckon the Cannons would've taken the league if Umbarger hadn't woken up in Nigeria halfway through the season thinkin' he was a bowtruckle?"

* * *

**A/N: Someday, Sirius, Lily will change your mind. Also, someday she'll actually make an appearance in this fic. Probs. Comment? :)**

**PS. I love the black James/biracial Harry headcanon and I didn't realize until just now that I hadn't mentioned that's what I'm working with. Whoops.**


	5. Summer Homework

Lily Evans did not miss deadlines. Lily Evans finished everything she set her mind to. Lily Evans disdained the sort of people who bought Efficiency Potions on the black market, because she knew that she brought her work on herself, and she would complete it through her own cleverness and tenacity.

Lily Evans was currently sitting in a cab headed to King's Cross on September 1st, staring blankly at the parchment that contained her unfinished summer homework.

In Lily's defense, Tuney refused to let her do it when Vernon was in the house, and Vernon was there _constantly_. Even when he wasn't there was Sev, ringing her doorbell and hiding awful notes in her mailbox that made her cry, until the day she saw him do it through the curtains and came running out of the house screaming.

"That _mailbox_ is property of the bloody _Crown_ , Snape, and _you_ filling it with _bullshit_ apologies that you _don't mean_ is a felony punishable by – well, not death, probably, but more than you can-" but her tongue froze and her hands flew to her face, because she'd been going to say _afford_ , and _he_ might have cut _her_ where it hurt but she wasn't going to sink to his level. She stopped short, tears welling in her eyes, turned around and ran back inside. But the notes stopped after that.

Then for the last month there was Marlene, who was a goddess in witch's robes and who she wouldn't see again for who knew how long. Mar, two years older, had graduated Hogwarts now and even though they promised to write every other day and fire-call weekly it wouldn't be the same. Marlene was an only child, and Lily had become the little sister she never had, while Mar herself was every good thing Petunia wasn't. So Lily hadn't wanted to waste any of their time together on work, especially after they met Hairy Harry Hargyle and Furry Friedrich Finkler, two ancient and flamboyantly gay warlocks who liked to have Lily and Mar over for tea and teach them barmy charms.

Also, there was James Potter, and no matter what Remus might think – ARGH.

Even despite all that, she _had_ worked hard at it, and often set aside hours to stew over the problem. It was much trickier than it should've been.

But these were all excuses, she knew. Excuses for the fact that for the first time since she was thirteen, she had not finished an important magical task by the due date, and she was going to have to confess to Mary, Anna, and Katie that she wasn't done.

It was almost worse because she'd set herself this homework. Oh, Merlin, you didn't think she'd failed to finish homework for a teacher, did you? The horror! Oh, no, of course she'd finished all that in the first week back, anything less would be reprehensible. But this project she'd assigned herself was just as important, maybe even more so, if in a different way. And she hadn't finished it.

* * *

After nudging Lily three times in the course of ten minutes, he decided it wasn't worth it. With friends like Sirius Black and James Potter, Remus was used to having his notes copied, and she'd filled him in on plenty of Prefect meetings he'd missed while dealing with his furry little problem. Mostly, he was taken aback by Lily's obvious disinterest in the Head students' instructions during the Hogwarts Express meeting because she was usually such a model of attention.

Of course, Head Boy Bertram Aubrey was a ponce who had, according to Lily's friend Katie, had once taken Lily to Hogsmeade and then tried to grab her tit before they reached the Three Broomsticks, but still, she'd normally at least pretend to listen. Instead, she was carefully scanning a piece of Muggle paper under the desk, apparently making edits. From the one glimpse Remus caught, it seemed to be a recipe, though for meal, potion, or poison he had no idea.

By the second hour of the meeting, she did at least pull out parchment and start taking notes, but she didn't stop glancing down at the paper in her hand, periodically scratching something out or making an addition.

When Aubrey finally dismissed them (half an hour later than was strictly necessary), she waited for Remus as usual, but he could tell she didn't want to. She put on a good show of smiling at him, though, even as she clutched the mysterious piece of paper in her left hand.

Hesitantly, he smiled back and asked after her family, but her terse answers weren't encouraging. He tried a couple other topics of small talk – still no luck.

Lily was always terribly kind to Remus – to nearly everyone, in fact – and he didn't like seeing her so stressed. She'd been in a state since she stepped into the Prefect compartment; even her hello hug had lacked its usual warmth. And when she'd handed him back the chocolate bar he offered without even taking a bite, he almost called the Mental Ward at St. Mungo's.

Desperate now, Remus racked his brains for something that would really distract her. Maybe some obscure interest Prongs might've mentioned in one of his hour-long rants about her favorite type of cheese and the difference between normal red hair and Lily's, which is _auburn_ , dammit, Padfoot!

All he could think of was Lily's favorite Muggle author, Charlotte Bronte, which he'd never forget because James had thought her name was Harlot Brotnay, and then he'd gotten Brotnay confused with bratwurst and the Marauders had spent three drunken hours debating whether the famous author's parents had really named their daughter Whore Sausage. Luckily, Remus' mother was an English teacher, so he'd since learned a good deal about Bronte's works _,_ though he'd never read them.

"Hey, uh, unrelated, but, _Jane Eyre…"_ he started, then trailed off, realizing he didn't have anything to follow that up.

"Hm?" Lily turned toward Remus, smiling, at least a little more engaged than she had been, and he tried to think of the most distractingly controversial thing he could possibly say about this book he hadn't read.

"So I know the traditional wisdom is pro-Rochester-and-Jane, but really, what does everyone have against Blanche Ingram?" he asked, and Lily's jaw dropped. Mission Accomplished.

"I mean, of course, I'd never tell you how to interpret a book," She forced out, and Remus laughed.

"Oh, so when I mentioned in passing that I liked Bingley better than Darcy and the ginger I was talking to said I deserved to marry Mr. Collins, that was…your secret twin?" he asked.

Lily smirked. "Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy are the epitome of human perfection, and their romance is everything love should be. I was just setting you straight."

Remus covered a matching smirk with his hand. He _had_ read _Pride and Prejudice,_ and he couldn't help but notice a striking resemblance between its leading pair and a couple of other hotheads he knew.

Still, even as they continued chatting amiably about Muggle literature, he could see her running her fingers nervously over the paper in her hand.

They reached the Marauders' compartment after a few more minutes. Remus pulled open the door without thinking to reveal Sirius standing at one end of the compartment, bellowing "NO MORE FUCKIN' DEER!" in a terrible imitation of a cockney accent, pretending to fire a machine gun at James, who was conducting an absurd gymnastics routine at the other end of the compartment as Peter convulsed with laughter in between them.

James was halfway through a cartwheel when he happened to glance their way, and he froze in midair. Except you can't freeze in midair, so his body promptly came crashing to the floor, gangly limbs crumpling over each other and mouth emitting what could only be described as an "oink".

Everyone burst out laughing. Peter, already cackling, might well have wet himself. James, whose enormous ego granted him an admirable ability to laugh at himself, chuckled along gladly, even as his hand flew to his hair. He scrambled to his feet, staring at Lily.

Beside Remus, she did a double-take as James stood up and she realized he'd shot up three inches in as many months. Unfortunately, James was too wrapped up in his need to find something stupid to say to notice her impressed once-over. "Evans!" he cried jovially, "How'd that prank work out for you?"

Her whole expression changed in an instant, the laughter and surprise wiped away by fury. "You _tit_!"

Aaaaaaaaand they were off.

" _I'm_ the tit here? At least _I_ wrote back to _you,_ because I'm bloody _civilized_!"

"'Civilized!?' You call that package 'civilized', do you?"

"I call it a bloody excellent prank!"

"You weren't meant to prank _me_ , you– you– you _toad coffin_!"

"Toad coffin?"

"Yes! Your body is the sort of place toads go to die!"

James laughed. "Well, Evans, your body's the sort of place _I_ go to worship." Her jaw dropped, and he grinned wider. "Come on, you set me up for that one."

"I set you up for nothing, you lump of hippogriff diarrhea."

"Diarrhea doesn't come in lumps, Evans, that's what makes it-"

"If you're fond of your testicles, Potter, do not finish that sentence."

"Go out with me, Evans, and I wager you'll grow pretty fond of 'em, too." James winked roguishly, even as Remus could physically see him internally kicking himself. James simply couldn't control his mouth around Lily.

For her part, she flushed and snarled, "As if! After you sent me boils in a box and didn't even have the decency to be sorry about it?"

"For the last bloody time, Evans, you asked for a prank; I gave you a prank! If you got boils you must've touched the gallywort seeds barehanded, and you've only yourself to blame -"

"Gallywort?! Is that what that was? Merlin, that makes perfect sense!"

"What do you mean, 'is that what it was'? I explained the whole thing in the letter!"

"Oh, the _letter_! Silly me, if only I'd read the _letter_!" Lily's voice dripped sarcasm.

"What are you, a conscientious objector to reading?"

"Conscientious objector? Oh, bravo, look who did his Muggle Studies homework during the American History unit! What, had you run out of hexes to cast on unsuspecting passersby?"

"How dare you suggest such a thing?" James gasped, puffing out his chest proudly, "I know way too many to run out - I use Hex of the Day toilet paper."

A surprised giggle burst out of Lily, and she clapped her hand over her mouth, embarrassed. "Gallywort seed, Potter," she snapped, changing the subject and raising her voice in a very transparent effort to regain control, "explodes when shaken, which is something that happens periodically, when, oh, I don't know, an _owl_ is flying it through the _air_!"

James' mouth dropped into a wide "O" of horrified realization, but before he could answer, the door to the compartment opened, and Lily's friend Anna's head appeared. "Lil?" She called uncertainly to the redhead yelling wildly at James, "Didn't we need to talk about the _thing_?"

Remus had to stuff half a chocolate bar in his mouth at once to muffle his snort when he saw Lily's confused expression. Furious she might've been, but two minutes with James had done what two hours with the rest of the world could not: she had completely forgotten whatever was on that piece of paper.


	6. Sobriety

Was it possible to die of how perfect someone else was? It'd be a pretty stupid thing to have to write on his tombstone, James reflected, as he stared slack-jawed at the door through which Lily had just disappeared.

_Here lies James Potter, handsome, promising young Quidditch star who probably would've gone professional if he hadn't been snuffed out in his prime by the brilliance of Lily Evans. RIP._

On second thought, it had sort of a ring to it. He would be a modern-day Heathcliff, pursuing his Catherine across the moors until – bam! Plague or some shite. Alright, so he hadn't actually read _Wuthering Heights_ , but he'd read almost the whole back cover because Lily liked it, and he thought he had the general idea…

"Ahem." Sirius hadn't coughed loudly, but the sound was quite derisive enough to make up for what it lacked in decibels. Suddenly, James was hyperaware that he hadn't just made a tit of himself in front of Lily; he'd done it for his mates' benefit as well.

Without turning around to look at Sirius, he asked, "D'you really think I'd say shite like that if I could help it? She just…" he trailed off aimlessly, hand landing involuntarily in his hair, and Padfoot sighed.

"I didn't say anything."

Luckily for James' dignity, they had Marauder traditions to plan.

Now, while they pulled pranks for pretty much every school event, they made an exception for the banquets on the first and last nights. After all, as Sirius had explained impatiently to Andie Zottweiler last year, "With our great humor, cleverness, and handsomeness comes great responsibility. We shan't distract people from saying hello and goodbye to their friends, even if everyone's lives would be better if we did." Andie, a tedious girl, pressed her breasts against him and murmured, "oh, Sirius, that's so _noble_ ," but she was so boring that James couldn't even remember whether Sirius had hooked up with her that night.

They did, however, have an ethical duty to Gryffindor House to throw an absolute rager _after_ the banquet, and that was easier said than done. Sirius had taken home their whole alcohol stash last term in anticipation of two months with his mum, so they had the next two hours to find something worth drinking and smuggle it all the way to the common room under every teacher in the school's nose.

Good thing they had experience being sneaky little shits.

James already had the bare bones of a plan worked out, based loosely on a tidbit Slughorn had dropped while sloshed at a Slug Club party last term. They spent the remainder of the train ride ironing out the details and setting up a betting pool on how many times Minnie would come in and yell at them before she actually made them shut it down.

The instant the train ground to a stop, Sirius and James were pushing through the crowd, grinning roguishly at girls and bellowing, "Urgent Quidditch Captain business! Must get through immediately!" They'd discovered second year that when they spewed rubbish confidently while having great hair, people mostly got out of their way.

Remus and Peter followed behind, Remus smiling apologetically at irritated classmates and good ol' Peter squealing, "MOVE, wankers! This is _James Potter!"_ (Peter was always charmingly cheeky as long as he was backed up by tall people who liked him).

They managed to claim one of the first carriages, and once inside, James pulled out his invisibility cloak as Peter and Sirius transformed. Peter wouldn't be noticed climbing out of the carriage as a rat, and Remus and James could fit under the cloak together without much of a squeeze. James had to cast a Disillusionment Charm on the dog to be safe, though, even though Remus was better at them, because –

"I'm not going to betray Dumbledore's trust, Prongs!"

"You're literally coming with us to get the alcohol."

"Yeah, but no one can cast Finite Incantatem and prove I did that."

After that, it was almost too easy. The carriage stopped, the boys clambered out in their varying guises, jogged around to the other side of the lake, Sirius leapt into the lake to lure the giant squid up with the smell of dog, the others triple-Stupefied the squid (that usually held him off for about thirty-seven seconds), and all four swam the fifteen feet down to the hidden door, slid into and along the passageway, sprinted down seventeen corridors and six staircases from where the passage let out near Ravenclaw Tower, Wingardium Leviosa'd a suit of armor to distract the Divination teacher, Professor Sylviatus, because desperate times call for desperate measures and he'd just think he was seeing the future anyway ("Bet he tells his first class to expect imminent death by floating samurai," Sirius sniggered to James), tickled the pear, and lo and behold…

"Young Masters Marauder!" A hundred house elves jumped up from their work stations, cheering. The boys waded into the throng, happily high-fiving the little elves and catching every pasty and sweet anyone tossed them. In seconds, the elves were pushing each other back, though, returning to their workstations and creating a path that led straight to –

"JOSIE!" All four boys sprinted toward the little elf at the end of the room, the oldest one in the kitchen and so shriveled that she couldn't stand without a cane. Sirius reached her first and picked her up, cradling her the way James held his broomstick, then flinging her into the air with a yell of joy.

"Master Black!" Josie cried, giggling in that old-lady-feeling-young-again way as she landed back in his arms, "Master Black, you isn't to be in here tonight!"

"Don't be silly, Josie, why would we come if it weren't against the rules?" James asked, smirking as Sirius passed her over for a hug.

She waggled her head in feigned disapproval and the leathery folds of her skin flopped back and forth. "Josie knows Master Potter would come visit her anyway, she knows he's a nice boy, he just hides it deep, _deep_ down inside…" Remus, Peter and Sirius cracked up.

"Speaking of hiding," Remus said, passing Josie a beautifully wrapped gift as he did so and putting the other boys to shame as usual for failing to bring her anything, "A little birdy told us that you lot keep a secret stash of mulled mead down here for impromptu faculty parties."

Josie's already huge eyes widened considerably. "What Professors is telling you that, Master Lupin? Master Dumbledore says they isn't to be telling you-"

"Oh, don't be a nag about it, love!" Sirius cried gaily, taking her back from James and setting her on a counter, then hopping up to join her. "Old Sluggy'll say anything if he's drunk enough."

"So what we want to know," James added quickly as Remus rolled his eyes, "Is will you be a doll and get Aggy and Bandy to pop some up to the Gryffindor common room before the feast is up?" Dumbledore trusted Josie and a few of the other senior elves with the power to break his rules or to grant other elves rights to break his rules when they saw fit. Providing students with alcohol would definitely fall under rule-breaking, but she'd made bigger exceptions for them before; they had a shot.

Josie shook her head ruefully at him, "Josie sees, Master Potter, she really is just a tool for him to get what he wants after all-"

"Come on, Jo!" Sirius tugged on her pillowcase, looking genuinely put out. He may have forgotten a present, but Padfoot loved that elf more than any of them. "When have we ever not visited you in the first week?"

"Yeah, maybe we did come visit a little earlier than usual 'cause of this – ow!" Peter yelped when James stomped on his foot, "But we love you to pieces. This is just a little favor."

Josie looked pensively down her long, hooked nose at them, and finally said, "The Young Masters is good boys, and Josie trusts them. Josie will do it, as long as one of the Young Masters is promising to stay sober." All four boys groaned simultaneously, and Remus volunteered, citing his Prefecture, but James cut him off.

"Let me do it, mate. You have fun for once in your bloody life, full moon's this Saturday and Merlin knows you need this."

Josie stared him down, reaching a long finger towards his chest and poking him. "Master Potter is promising?"

"On Sirius' life." James said solemnly.

"Oy!"

Josie just smiled. "Iis sending Aggy and Bandy tonight, then, Masters. Youis better getting to your feast before the Professors is wondering where you is." And she had no sooner said it than all four boys were swooping in to kiss her cheeks and then racing for the exit as Peter hollered the time – two minutes until Sorting.

* * *

James hadn't realized, when he'd volunteered for this, that it would be the first time he stayed sober at a party since third year. Drunk people were a lot less fun, it turned out, when you weren't one of them. Still, everyone around him seemed to be loving it: the music was blaring, the drinks were flowing, the giant red and gold banners were a huge hit, and James had shrunk half the furniture to pincushion-size to give people more room to dance (or, well, grind).

Sirius and Peter had a great time. Remus started nervous, but once James managed to ease three drinks into him, he loosened up, and James almost whooped aloud when he caught a glimpse of his sandy-haired friend attached by the lips to a pretty girl.

And James...well, James decided that if he was going to be sober, he was going to make good choices all round. He would find Lily Evans, he would apologize for the gallywort fiasco, and then (and this was the crucial thing) he would leave her alone for the whole rest of the night.

And so there he was, an hour into the party, standing in the least crowded corner of the common room clutching a glass that _actually_ contained juice for the first time in four years and face-to-face with Lily Evans.

Merlin, she was pretty. Over the summer, with the boys, he'd been able to sort of pack away thoughts of the way she flipped her hair and the freckles that spattered her nose and the auburn lashes that framed her eyes, oh, jeez, her _eyes_. But now, staring down at her under the flickering light of the candles…Sweet Circe.

"Yes, Potter?" _uh oh._ The eyes in question were now narrowing dangerously, and he realized that he'd been standing in her way for a solid eight seconds now. "Do you have something to say to me, or are you just practicing for your future career as a brick wall?" He grinned, hand jumping to his hair. That was another thing he could only forget when he wasn't with her - she made him laugh.

"If I were gonna be a wall, I think I'd rather be wood, thanks – more color variety, you know?" he tossed back, and for a second she looked as if she wanted to engage. But that was stupid, he realized when she rolled her eyes and started to turn away, she was _Lily Evans_ , of course she didn't want to talk to him. "Wait!" he said imploringly, almost grabbing her shoulder before thinking better of it and freezing, hand held awkwardly aloft. "I wanted to tell you sorry about the gallywort – I really did mean to be helping you out, and I hadn't any idea about the exploding."

She turned back to look at him over her shoulder and rolled her eyes again, but more indulgently this time. "Yes, I know that… _now._ "

Okay.

She knew that.

Great.

Time to disengage.

That was the plan.

"Evans, you don't like me very much, do you?" _Well, fuck a bowtruckle, there goes the plan._

This time, she turned all the way back around, emitting an adorably unattractive snort as she did so. "What gave me away?"

He smiled easily. He never could stop smiling around her, even when she was insulting him. "Yeah, well, given that, I – er – Ijustdon'tunderstandwhyyouwrotemeback."

"Huh?"

"I don't understand why you wrote me back!" he said again, only marginally less quickly, "I mean, not that it's any of my business, only you'd been _furious_ , after, er, after OWLs, and you didn't say anything about it, and I just – it's more than I deserved. And I couldn't figure it out."

"Oh." For the first time, she looked a little nervous herself. "Er…"

 _Fuck._ Sirius had been right. "Never mind!" he muttered quickly, "I – I kind of figured you were using me to get back at Snivellus, I don't blame you or anything –"

"No!" His eyebrows shot upwards and she blushed. "I mean, maybe a little, yeah. But…I didn't want to tell you this, I thought maybe…but I suppose…" she seemed to come to a decision, and her next words came out in a rush. "Remus lives near me, and we get coffee sometimes over summer hols. He told me – well – the real reason for your ridiculous mail schedule. And I wrote you back because...I thought it was a really good thing, what you did."

Oh.

James was floored. It wasn't as if Sirius moving in with him was a secret that Remus had been wrong to reveal, it just hadn't occurred to him somehow that she might be impressed by the truth. He shrugged awkwardly, physically restraining his hand from moving back to his hair. "He's my best mate. It was only decent."

Her lips quirked up sort of sadly, and her emerald eyes stared hard into his. "Yes, well, I've been inclined to admire a decent best friend recently." She swallowed and looked away quickly to stare out across the room, then suddenly gave a long-suffering sigh. "Dammit, why are people such bloody _gits?"_

James tore his eyes away from Lily for the first time in minutes to follow her line of sight to where a fifth year he vaguely recognized was violently retching on three of his classmates. Lily looked back at James, drawing his eyes to hers automatically, and shrugged.

"Excuse me, won't you, while I try to explain the concept of moderation to a fifteen-year-old boy?" she asked, shaking out her robes so her Prefect badge glinted, and then she marched off into the crowd.

 _All in all,_ he thought as she walked away, _this sobriety gig isn't the worst thing in the world_.


End file.
